


Reliance

by Arvanion



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Nagamas, Nagamas 2015, Polyamory, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-10 09:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5580415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arvanion/pseuds/Arvanion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Here on the battlefield, we must rely on each other."</i><br/>Three Shepherds bond over horses, books, and battle, and discover that being together is far better than being alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Odd Conversation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phrenotobe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phrenotobe/gifts).



Sully stares down the training dummy with as much intensity as she would regard an enemy on the battlefield. She focuses on keeping her breathing steady and even: as Frederick had carefully stressed during their training, proper breathing was very important for maintaining proper focus and composure. _First and foremost, you must rely on yourself when on the battlefield._

 _Focus… and strike!_ She moves into a series of sword forms, the pot-metal practice blade whistling through the air as she hacks at the straw figure.

The thudding of the weapon as it makes contact gives her a distinct feeling of satisfaction. She grins, wolfishly. _If that was Vaike, he’d have a few bruises to think about in the morning_.

As she takes a few steps back and steadies her breathing once again, she hears a rustling in the grass—the sound of someone moving behind her. Turning, the red-haired cavalier sees Miriel leaning against the fencepost, a small book open in one hand and a quill in the other. She nods to Sully, a single curt inclination of her head. “Good evening.”

Sully tucks the practice blade into her belt and strolls over towards the fence, her breathing still even despite her exercise. “Uh… hey, Miriel. What are you doing here?”

“Observing,” says the mage, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. _Hell, to her it probably is_. After a moment of Sully staring at her, Miriel adjusts her glasses. “Ah, I beg your pardon. I should have ascertained your specific intentions during our prior discussion.”

 _Prior discussion…?_ Sully has a moment of confusion before her memory catches up to the moment. “Oh, _right_ , this is about you studying me.”

“Correct.”

The cavalier racks her brain, thinking back. “I thought that was supposed to be about how I… y’know, talked to others, and that kind of crap.”

“Indeed. I have been observing your everyday interactions as scientifically as I can. It is important that I keep my methods as naturalistic as possible, as I do not have any control group to speak of.”

“O-kay…” says Sully slowly. _I haven’t noticed that, but I suppose that she can avoid being noticed if she tries…_

Miriel refers to the pages of the small book in her hands. “My early research indicates that your demeanor and choice of language are the main ways in which you differ from the accepted norms within the Shepherds. However, in order to ensure a suitable margin for error, more data is required. Thus, I must continue observing your social interactions.”

“By _social interactions,_ you mean…” says Sully, leaving the end of the sentence trailing so that Miriel can clarify.

“The manner in which you communicate with others.”

Sully pauses for a second as she translates Miriel’s words into everyday speech. “…so, the way I talk to people.”

“Correct.”

“But I’m not talking to anyone now.”

“…not true.” There is a moment of uncharacteristic hesitation in Miriel’s voice. Perhaps it is just a trick of the day’s fading light, but Sully fancies that she sees a blush flit across Miriel’s face, shaded from the sunset by the wide brim of her hat. “You and I are speaking at this very moment.”

“Oh.”

A moment of awkward silence stretches between the two women until Miriel finally breaks it. “Regardless, I merely wished to inform you of the data I have gathered thus far, and reassure you that, though you may not see me, I am continuing my observations.”

Sully runs a hand uncertainly through her sweaty hair. “Uh. Thanks.”

After another awkward silence, Miriel signals an end to the conversation by snapping her notebook decisively closed. “Well, now that I have consulted with you about the preliminary results of my study, I must go compile my data.”

As Miriel tucks her note-taking materials into her satchel, Sully shifts from foot to foot. “Uh. So, before you go, is there anything in particular you noticed about me? Anything you could tell me right now?”

Miriel looks back at her, the light catching the lenses of her glasses and making them gleam. “Indeed. You are not like the other women in the army, and ascertaining the reasons why has proven to be a fruitful line of inquiry. I look forward to continuing along this fascinating line of study.” She touches her right hand to the stem of her glasses— _a gesture of acknowledgment, or something else?_ “Good evening to you, Sully.”

Sully watches Miriel walks away, moving purposefully in the direction of her tent. The mage’s robes swirl around her, and her long shadow practically dances across the ground in the slowly fading light of the sunset.

When Sully returns her focus to herself, she is surprised to note that her breathing is unsteady.

 

 


	2. Helping Hands

Seeing to her pegasus has always calmed Sumia, and today is no exception. After a hard day of training, nothing soothes her nerves better. She moves slowly and deliberately, ensuring that every inch of her mount, from wings to hooves, is cleaned and groomed perfectly. It’s moments like this, when the pegasus affectionately presses her head against Sumia’s chest, that she lives for.

After Sumia’s mount is groomed and chomping contentedly away at her food, the knight turns her attention to the saddle. It’s not as enjoyable, but maintaining it is just as important: after all, saddles that weren’t cared for properly began to degrade, and a frayed strap snapping at the wrong time could send her plummeting from the saddle. _And that’s the last one of my fears that I want to turn out to be true…_ She shudders slightly and gets back to work, using a lightly oiled cloth to wipe away the dirt and dust of the day’s travel from the saddle’s leather.

It takes her half an hour to finish cleaning, and by the time she’s done, she feels her stomach rumbling. _Almost time for dinner. I wonder who’s cooking tonight? Hopefully it’s not Sully’s turn again…_ The red-haired cavalier’s last attempt at cooking had left more than a few of the Shepherds quickly excusing themselves from the table, and that’s not an experience they care to repeat.

Sumia stands, sighing. _Well, she’s so good at fighting, I suppose it makes sense she’s bad at_ something. _All that training probably doesn’t leave much room for_ —

Her train of thought is abruptly cut off as her boot snags the edge of her stool. She falls flat, the saddle flying from her hands. It skids across the dirty floor, bits of straw and other filth now clinging to its previously pristine surface.

 _I have to clean the whole thing again…_ Sumia realizes, almost in despair. She lies still on the floor for a few moments, almost on the verge of tears, and buries her face in the straw in front of her. It’s then that she hears footsteps coming down the stable corridor, and a voice calling out.

“Sumia, are you in here?”

“Y-yes,” she stammers, voice somewhat muffled. She raises her face to see Sully peering into her pegasus’s stall.

“Your boots again?” Her tone is amusement mixed with concern, matching the expression on her face.

“No… I mean, yes… I mean, partially?”

Sully holds out a hand for Sumia to take, helping her comrade to her feet. “You should be more careful.”

“I know,” says the pegasus knight, staring at the ground. Sully’s hand is callused, marked by long hours of training with sword and lance. Sumia realizes belatedly that her fingers are still wrapped around Sully’s, and practically recoils in embarrassment, the blood rushing to her cheeks.

Fortunately, Sully seems to take Sumia’s discomfort for something else. “Was that your saddle that just came flying out of the stall?”

“Yes… I dropped it when I tripped.” Sumia sighs. “I was going to go eat, but… well, now I need to clean the whole thing again.”

“Would you like some help?” Sully offers.

“I mean, it really is my job…”

“Yeah, but nothing says you can’t have a little help with it.” She gives Sumia a small grin. “After all, you’ve given me more than a few helpful tips about caring for our mounts. I’d appreciate being able to repay the favor.”

Sumia returns Sully’s smile, gratefully. “If you’re sure, I’d be glad to accept.”

The second cleaning is much faster with two pairs of hands. When they finish, Sully takes the saddle over to the rack to hang it up while Sumia tidies up their work area. She smiles as she tucks the oils and rags away.

“Ready to eat?”

“Yeah,” says Sully. “Just a second…” She suddenly steps in, and Sumia acutely feels their closeness.

Sully raises a hand to pluck something from Sumia’s hair: a long piece of straw, still tangled there from Sumia’s prior fall. The red-haired woman winks at her. “Wouldn’t do to show up with this in your hair. People might think you’d been for a roll in the hay!” She grins at her own joke as she steps away.

Sumia takes a moment to consider what Sully said. “By a roll in the hay, what do you mean?”

Sully chuckles, shaking her head. “Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t heard that expression before. When two people want to—”

The pegasus knight’s face goes rapidly crimson. “ _Oh_.”

“Well, come on, let’s get going!” says Sully, clapping a hand to Sumia’s shoulder and heading for the mess tent.

Sumia follows as quickly as she can. This time, she’s careful to watch the ground so she doesn’t trip.

 

 


	3. Flights of Fancy

_There is no sensation_ , Miriel muses, _quite like that of coming to the end of an excellently-written story._ She turns the final page of her favorite novel and lets it fall closed. The number of times she’s read it have, by now, surpassed even her considerable capacity to remember, yet she still loves it as dearly as she did the first time she read it.

The only difference now is that she remembers every twist and turn of the story, almost down to the word. _If only there were some way I could experience it all again for the first time…_ She sighs, gustily. _But of course, that is impossible_.

Standing, the mage heads down the hall in the direction of the library. While most of the books are owned by the Shepherds, Miriel has a shelf set aside for books that she personally owns. She has always been very particular about the way her shelves are organized, and she learned from an unfortunate past experience that if she doesn’t take care of her books herself, the other Shepherds will replace them in entirely the wrong order. Regardless of whether they mean well or not, that sort of disorder has always peeved Miriel.

It doesn’t take her long to find the proper spot on the shelf for the book. Carefully, she slides it into place, trailing a finger down the worn surface of its spine in an almost affectionate gesture. _Until next time, old friend_.

“Miriel? Hey, _Miriel!_ ”

Miriel practically leaps back from the shelf in surprise at the shout and turns to glare at the source of the interruption—a rather sheepish-looking Sumia. “Is there really a need to shout?”

“Sorry… I said your name a couple of times, but I don’t think you heard me.”

Miriel adjusts her glasses, sighing. “I suppose that I should have been paying more attention. I was absorbed in thought. What did you wish to speak with me about?”

“I just came up from breakfast, but I didn’t see you there. I just wanted to make sure you were eating properly.”

 _She’s certainly solicitous…_ “Rest assured, I do plan on partaking of breakfast. I merely had other activities to see to this morning.”

“Okay, just making sure.”

Miriel assumes that’s the end of the conversation, but Sumia is still standing there. After a moment, she glances at the pegasus knight over the top of her glasses. “Was there something further you wished to converse about?”

“Actually, I’m curious. What’s that book you were putting away?”

“My favorite novel,” says Miriel. “While works of fiction such as this do little to elucidate the mysteries of the world, I find that escapism has a certain charm of its own.”

Sumia moves next to Miriel, peering at the book’s title. “I don’t think I’ve read that one before.”

Miriel’s eyes widen. _Hasn’t… read it? Then she doesn’t know how the story unfolds? So, were she to read it…_

Sumia squeaks as Miriel pulls the book from the shelf and presses it into her hands. The mage’s eyes are practically afire with passion. “You must read it immediately. And keep me abreast of your reactions to _every_ development.”

Sumia blinks a few times, then giggles. “All right, Miriel, it’s a deal.” She tucks the book under her arm. “I’ll get it back to you as soon as I’m finished with it!”

For the rest of the day, Sumia carries the book everywhere she goes, reading as she walks. The other Shepherds scramble to clear obstacles from her path to prevent her from tripping. After a full afternoon of this, Sumia retreats to the library to sit in one of the worn-out, overstuffed chairs and get down to the business of finishing the book.

Miriel enters the library shortly after sunset, looking for Sumia. After a short journey through the shelves, she finds her comrade slumped over one arm of the chair. The book is closed on the small table beside her, front cover facedown. Miriel clears her throat delicately.

“Sumia?”

Sumia turns her head. “Oh. Hi, Miriel.”

“I didn’t see you at the Shepherds’ evening meal. Were you planning on eating?”

“Yeah. I just needed some time to… adjust.”

“You finished the book, then?” Miriel says, a note of understated excitement entering her voice. “Tell me, what was your first impression of the novel’s content? Did you find it enjoyable?”

To the mage’s surprise, Sumia sits abruptly upright, reaching out for one of Miriel’s hands and clasping it between both of her own. “It. Was. _Incredible_.” Her eyes are shining. “I can’t believe it took me this long to read it!”

Miriel smiles ever so slightly, and her eyes flick back to her shelf. She gestures with her free hand.

“Would you like another?”

 

 


	4. On the Battlefield

The Shepherds are rarely able to rest for long, and it’s not long before they’re called to the field once again. This time they march north, into the Feroxi highlands, chasing reports of multiple bands of Risen.

During the day, the sky is almost overcast, with occasional showers of rain. The winds are cold and sharp, chilling any exposed flesh and piercing through thinner layers of clothing. Miriel is the worst off: her mage’s robes are ill-suited for the cold, and she spends most of the morning shivering. When they stop for a quick lunch, Sully is there with an extra coat, which Miriel gratefully accepts.

During the night, Sumia shares a tent with Sully and Miriel, and although they are usually too tired to converse much, they take comfort in each other’s presence. A lit brazier in the center of the tent gives them a good amount of warmth, and when darkness fully falls, each of them crawls into their own bedroll, all three piled high with blankets against the night’s cold.

For almost a week, there is no sign of the enemies that they are seeking. On the morning of the sixth day, as she flies along the right flank of the Shepherds’ column, Sumia spots movement below: one of the Risen groups, traveling on a parallel course.

She flies back as quickly as she can to alert the others, and before long, Chrom and Robin have agreed on a strategy. The landscape is uneven, so determining the enemy’s location is difficult from anywhere but the air. Going in on foot would be dangerous proposition, but if they don’t divert the monsters somehow there’s no telling where they’ll strike next. Therefore, Robin proposes diversionary tactics: a small, fast-moving force of Shepherds will split off from the main group and harry the Risen’s flank, falling back once they’ve captured the enemy’s attention. If all goes according to plan, the Risen will be lured straight into the tactician’s ambush.

The entire plan hinges on how well the Shepherds can work together. Robin’s last words to the Shepherds before sending them off are “Here on the battlefield, we must rely on each other.”

Sumia watches nervously as the soldiers chosen for the force split from the main group. Panne shifts into beast form and bounds off, climbing uphill with nimble assurance. Frederick, Sully, and Stahl steer their mounts in different directions, spreading out to cover as much territory as possible. She watches Sully’s departure with a pang of worry, but quickly shakes it off to concentrate on her own duty. She and Cordelia are to oversee the movements of allies and enemies alike, and divert the rest of the Shepherds to where they are needed.

The pair take off and, after gaining sufficient altitude, split off—Cordelia to the north, to watch Panne and Frederick; Sumia to the south, to keep an eye on Sully and Stahl. She bends down over the neck of her mount to survey the terrain below. Both cavaliers are making steady progress, but she sees no sign of Risen ahead.

Then, quite suddenly, the hills are swarming with them.

Stahl, reaching the top of a hill, sees them first and turns his horse about, trying to draw as much attention as he can. Sully, however, is still ascending, and realizes too late that she’s riding directly into danger. She wheels her mount, spurring the horse into a gallop, but Sumia can see another group of enemies moving to cut off her escape. They’ll be on her within a few minutes, and then Sully will have to fight her way out.

Sumia’s first urge is to dive in, to rush to Sully’s side, to do anything it takes to help her… but she sees the bows clutched in the monsters’ hands, and knows that she would never be able to make it down.

_Not by myself, at least…_

She might not be able to accomplish this on her own, but there is one other on whom she and Sully can always rely.

Sumia turns her pegasus about and goes to find Miriel.

Her landing is ungainly, and she is shouting before her pegasus’s hooves even touch down. “The southern hills! At least two dozen of them, well-armed! Sully’s in trouble.”

She meets Miriel’s eyes, sees them flash with understanding. The mage rarely runs, but now she dashes to Sumia’s side, robes belling out behind her. Sumia extends a hand, pulls her into the saddle. She feels Miriel’s arms wrap around her waist, and that’s all the signal she needs to dig her heels into the pegasus’s sides and send them both skyward.

“We need to clear a route for Sully to escape, or deal with the Risen near her ourselves,” says Sumia over the rushing wind. “I hope that she’s all right…”

Miriel’s arms momentarily tighten—a reassuring gesture, like a truncated hug. She leans forward, head over Sumia’s shoulder, to speak. “I am certain that she is well. It simply falls to us to render her whatever assistance she may require.”

Sumia turns her head, taken aback by the closeness of Miriel’s face but welcoming it. Impulsively, she leans forward to kiss Miriel on the cheek: a swift brush of the lips, a hint of warmth soon lost in the wind.

“You…” Miriel is nonplussed for a moment, then clears her throat. “Why did you do that?”

“For… for luck!” stammers Sumia, giddy with adrenaline. She’s suddenly struck with the fear that she’s made a terrible mistake.

She’s surprised when Miriel returns the kiss, rather more solidly. The mage’s low voice near her ear carries an undercurrent of amusement.

“An interesting hypothesis, if unsubstantiated. We’ll discover, together, whether or not it bears empirical fruit.”

Sumia smiles broadly and urges her pegasus on to greater speed. They’re approaching Sully’s last known position now, and Sumia keeps her eyes peeled for the cavalier’s distinctive red hair. At last, she spots her, and points with her lance. “There!”

The Risen archers turn at the thundering sound of wings, reaching for their arrows, but Sumia’s course does not waver. _It’s up to you, Miriel._

The mage unwraps one arm from around Sumia’s waist, bringing out a fire tome, and shouts out an incantation. The loosed arrows are burned to ash in midair as Miriel’s blast travels forward, and when the smoke below clears, only a black ash-stain is left of them. Sumia brings her pegasus around for another pass, this time moving closer to where Sully is fending off a pair of lance-wielding Risen. The cavalier’s sword is in her hands—her own lance lies on the ground, torn out of her grip by her opponents.

Sumia runs her lance through the first Risen, and another blast of fire from Miriel deals with the second. No longer being held at bay by the lance-wielding Risen, Sully is free to move forward, charging at the last two enemies in sight. Her sword chops down once, twice—carefully placed blows that shear through the monsters’ armor and send them collapsing to the ground.

And just like that, it’s over.

Sully, grimacing, jumps down from her saddle to retrieve her lance. As she does so, Sumia dismounts as well—practically falling in her haste. Miriel dismounts more sedately, watching as the pegasus knight runs over to Sully.

“Thank goodness you’re all right!”

She flings her arms around Sully, and the cavalier returns her embrace, a wry grin coming to her lips. “What, were you really that worried about me?”

“Yes!” Sumia blushes as she steps back. “I couldn’t…” She takes a deep breath. “I couldn’t bear to see someone I love get hurt!”

_I… I said it._

Sully blinks, slowly, a blush creeping across her face. “Sumia, did you just…”

“I… yes.” The pegasus knight smiles. “I… love you, Sully.”

“As do I.” Miriel steps forward, her normally stoic expression broken by an almost mischievous smile.

Sully laughs nervously. “I… uh… isn’t this all a little sudden?”

“No, I believe that events have been leading towards this conclusion for some time,” says Miriel. She raises her eyebrows. “Of course, should you have objections to the state of affairs as we laid out, now would be the time to voice them.”

Sully looks between the two of them, her expression bewildered. “No, it’s not that, it’s just… I love you, too, but I never thought… I mean, both of you are so wonderful, and—”

The eerie howls of Risen coming from the distance free Sully from her floundering. She gives Sumia a quick grin, her confidence returning as quickly as it had gone. “Tell you what. We’ll deal with these bastards now, and figure out what sweet nothings to whisper in each other’s ears later.”

“That is an acceptable proposal,” says Miriel, raising her tome and stepping forward.

Sumia grips her lance tightly and smiles. With the women she loves at her side, she feels anything is possible.

 


	5. What Comes After

When the battle is won, and the Shepherds are congratulating each other on a job well done, the three women slip away from the crowd and return to their tent. For a short time after they sit down, all three remain silent: none of them are sure what to say. After a minute or two, however, Sumia inches over to Sully’s side, snuggling up against the taller woman’s shoulder. Sully, smiling, lets her right arm encircle Sumia’s waist, pulling her in closer.

“That was some day we had, huh?”

Sumia giggles softly. Miriel, smiling, adjusts her glasses. “Indeed it was.”

“So. What comes next?” Sully scratches the back of her neck, not making eye contact with either of them. “I mean… this is something new. For all of us.”

“Indeed it is.” Miriel barely varies her tone at all: her idea, Sully is certain, of a joke.

“This is going to change a lot of things.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Sully looks down at Sumia. “What do you mean?”

“Well, all this time, we’ve had each other to rely on, right? If anything, we’ll be closer than ever now.”

Sumia’s plain-spoken optimism draws laughs from both of the others. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” says Sully.

“Whatever the future to come, we’ll face it together,” says Miriel. She moves in to kneel in front of the other two, taking one of their hands in each of hers.

Sumia’s fingers intertwine with Miriel’s, and she nods. “Together.”

“Together,” repeats Sully. “No matter what.”

A bell begins ringing across the camp, signaling dinner, and the three reluctantly disengage from each other’s arms. “I suppose we’d better eat.”

“Indeed. Proper sustenance is the cornerstone of a healthy lifestyle.”

“As long as it isn’t Sully’s cooking.”

“ _Hey_ …”

Laughing and joking with each other, they make their way to dinner.

There’s something different between them, and the others are quick to take notice. It’s in the way they sit, in the casual way that their fingers brush as they pass plates down the table, in the way they look at each other. Robin, passing by as they leave the mess tent after dinner, gives them a thumbs-up and a grin, prompting various degrees of blushing from each of them.

When they get back to their tent, Miriel clears her throat, her tone businesslike. “I’ve devised a new configuration for our tent,” she says, “with the intention of conserving as much heat as possible and providing the maximal comfort to each of us.”

The other two wait for her to continue. Miriel seems much less composed than usual, and her face slowly reddens as she speaks. “Some have postulated that shared body heat can make cold nights more bearable, and I believe this hypothesis should be rigorously tested to ensure its veracity.”

Sully and Sumia exchange knowing looks. “Testing a hypothesis,” the cavalier drawls. “ _Right_.”

Miriel straightens her glasses—rather unnecessarily—and clears her throat again. “Um. Therefore, I propose we move our bedrolls together so as to collectively conduct this experiment.”

Sumia raises her eyebrows, smiling. “An experiment? Is that really all that this is about?”

Miriel’s eye twitches. “…all right, _fine._ I have a personal desire to be in closer proximity to both of you, in the interests of furthering our relationship.”

The other two move forward to hug her from either side, laughing. “At least you admitted it.”

It takes a few minutes’ work, but soon they’ve pulled all three of their pallets together. The softly glowing brazier fills the tent with warmth as they settle down for the night, and they bask in each other’s presence as much as they bask in that heat.

Sully awakes the next morning to a ray of sunlight piercing the front flap of the tent. Miriel is curled up at her left, her back pressing into Sully’s side. On her right is Sumia, head pillowed on Sully’s shoulder and one outflung hand resting lightly on Miriel’s waist. Lying between them, Sully can feel every breath, every heartbeat. She lets out a long sigh, content merely to lay there and enjoy their company.

When Sumia begins to stir, Sully bends down and presses a light kiss to her forehead. “‘Morning.”

“Good morning.” Sumia smiles. “You’re going to think this is silly, but I feel so… relieved right now.”

“Relieved?”

“Yes.” Sumia kisses Sully on the cheek. “Because I thought that all this might have been a wonderful dream.”

Miriel rolls over, her face looking somehow softer without her glasses. Her voice, however, is somewhat waspish: clearly, she's not a morning person. “I assure you, we are certainly in the material plane. Otherwise I would not be awake this early.”

“…sorry,” says Sully sheepishly.

Miriel smiles. “If this is the kind of awakening I can look forward to, I’ll learn to live with it.” Her eyes twinkle. "I may even look forward to it."

Laughing, Sully gives her a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> And here ends my first participation in Nagamas. I admit that I may have gone a little overboard with this, but your prompts were too good an opportunity to pass up! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> As always, comments of any kind are ~~desperately wished for~~ welcomed. (Or you can throw things directly at [my tumblr](http://occasionallydiverting.tumblr.com/). I'm not picky.)


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